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An equation even he couldn't crack
February 13, 2009
let me hide between your prophetic numbers
solve me, and i'm
all yours
again
1, 2, 3, we're running out of time
you.
me, dark'room
swimming in chemicals
(you
me)
a yellowing scrap of what we
could have been
no q.e.d. something won't factor out
or factor in
i'm not making this any easier
3, 2, 1
so i fly through pages of prose but nothing fits
shoes made of plaster
crumble and
fall
i would have given you everything
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